not in a way that unsettles you, just in the way it exists outside of anything you've ever known how to name.
it's the kind of thing you used to imagine finding. the kind you build quietly in your head, soft and golden and always just a little out of reach.
only to realize, now you're here. and it looks nothing like you thought about. it looks nothing like you wrote about.
you think it's strange. the way you feel about him.
not loud. not consuming. not the kind of love that demands to be felt all at once.
just, constant. like it's something that's been woven into you so carefully, you don't notice it until you try and pull away.
it's not something you have to search for.
it just is.
you never have to question it. you don't have to hold too tightly to keep it from slipping.
because it doesn't waver.
it settles.
it sits with you in the quiet, in the in-between moments, in the stillness that used to make you restless.
and it sits with you in the chaos too. when your thoughts turn sharp and everything inside you starts to spiral. when the storm clouds gather behind your eyes.
it stays.
and maybe that's the undoing.
because you would've sworn you'd felt love before. you've called it love before.
you've stood in the heat of something you were certain burned just as bright as this does. something that took up space in a way that made it impossible to ignore.
but it never held. it never rooted itself into you the way this does.
and the difference is almost unbearable.
because you can't quite fathom that you ever believed anything but this was love.
the heat of the fool's gold you once mistook for love left blisters. blisters that healed to scars. and those scars that are now softened by something warmer.
because love isn't supposed to burn. it's not something to be afraid to get close to.
the difference is in the way you soften in his presence.
the way the walls you built without realizing begin to give. not all at once, but slowly.
like something that's being taken apart with care instead of with force.
and he doesn't rush it.
he stays to gather the pieces, placing them gently at your feet, ready for if you ever decide to need them again.
and your mind slows.
just enough to loosen the grip on everything you've been holding too tightly.
because with him, you're not waiting.
you're not bracing for the shift. for the moment that something good turns into something you have to grieve.
you can just exist beside him. and somehow, that is enough.
you aren't choosing him in a way that feels urgent or all-consuming.
you choose him quietly. in the way you remain. in the way your thoughts return to him without effort. in the way the storms behind your eyes begin to clear without a fight.
it's strange, how something so gentle can feel so certain.
ᓚᘏ𑄝 suguru geto can not sleep unless his face is buried between your tits
you’re propped against the headboard scrolling aimlessly when the mattress dips for the third time in ten minutes.
suguru doesn’t even pretend to be subtle anymore.
he slides down, long limbs folding around you like he’s claiming his territory, and before you can even set your phone aside his face is already pressing between your breasts with the same i’m-so-tired sigh. his breathe hits your skin. warm exhale then slow inhale. arms locking around your middle like he’s afraid the pillows might stage a coup and steal his spot.
you let thirty full seconds pass in amused silence.
“…suguru.” you whine followed by muffled grunt, he doesn’t move.
“you’re doing the thing again.”
he turns his head just enough that his cheek squishes against soft skin, voice thick and drowsy. “what thing. there’s no thing. i’m just… resting my eyes.”
“with your whole face.” you bite a smile.
“it’s ergonomic.”
you snort, fingers familiarly finding the silky strands at his nape. “you said that last week. and the week before. and also yesterday when you literally motorboated me in your sleep.”
“that was a dream,” he mutters instantly. “you can’t hold dream actions against me. that’s unfair trial rules.”
“you were awake when you rolled over and chose violence against my sternum at 2 a.m.”
“coincidence. gravity. magnetic north. pick one, baby.”
you tug lightly on his hair. not enough to hurt—just enough to make him huff in protest.
“you’re ridiculous.”
“you’re cozy,” he counters without missing a beat. his voice has gone softer now, the edges blurring into that rare, unguarded register he only lets out when he’s half-asleep and too tired to keep all his walls standing. “and warm. and you smell like that vanilla body cream you think i don’t notice you reapplying before bed.”
your heart does a stupid little flip. traitor.
“…you’re still denying it though.”
he finally lifts his head, just barely. dark hair falls across his face, one sleepy eye cracking open to peer up at you like you’ve personally offended him.
“there is nothing to deny,” he says with exaggerated dignity. “i simply… prefer this elevation for optimal REM cycle alignment. it’s science.”
“uh-huh.” you slide both hands into his hair now, scratching gently at his scalp the way you know makes his eyelids flutter. sure enough, they do. “science.”
he melts, visibly relaxing on your skin. his shoulders dropping, body going heavy and liquid against yours like warm wax. the smug little “hmph” he tries to make comes out more like a contented purr.
“you love it,” you whisper, teasing.
he doesn’t answer right away.
instead he turns his face back into your chest, presses the softest, slowest kiss right over your heartbeat like he’s answering in morse code and murmurs so quietly you almost miss it:
“…maybe.” he mutters one word, a small whisper that’s barely there. but it’s the closest he’s ever come to admitting anything.
you smile into the dark, wrap both arms around his shoulders, and pull him closer.
“go to sleep, baby.”
he already is, breathing slow and even, lashes fanned against your skin, one hand curled loosely around your waist.
you place a kiss on top of his head and suguru geto? the self-proclaimed strongest, most aloof curse-user in existence, sleeps like a contented housecat with his face buried exactly where he wants it.
you’ll tease him again in the morning. but tonight tonight he gets to win.
now toji knew he was dating a freak, i mean you were down to try almost anything in the book.
but he didn’t know you were this freaked out.
you were both sprawled on the couch watching a movie. a classic typical date night right? wrong. you had something up your sleeve you wanted to pull for a very long time but you never knew how to bring it up to toji.
so what did you do?
you just did it on your own!
you stood up from the couch and bent down in front of him, nuzzling your cheek against the side of his meaty thighs, “hey— what’re you doing?”
“shh.. just let me.” you whispered before slightly pulling down his boxers until his soft dick jumped out. wasting no time, you quickly grabbed the base of his dick and put it in your mouth, fondling his balls with your other hand.
“fuckin’ slut— if you wanted this dick, should’ve just— fuckk— said somthin.” he growled, tilting his head back on the couch. you watched his facial expressions as you felt his dick harden inside of your mouth. with each bob of your head, it grew harder and longer.
you could tell he was secretly enjoying this. it all felt so dirty. his girl on her knees sucking his soft cock until it grew. “mm yeah bitch—“ he groaned, “take that fat fuckin’ cock like you’re meant to.”
he suddenly bucked his hips up, matching your speed while fucking his cock roughly into your mouth. he watches with teary eyes as you slobber your drool and spit all over his shaft.
“fuuck baby you’re gonna kill me” he whines, eyes crossed and legs twitching, he was obviously close. “aww— you gonna come ji’? be a good boy and cum down my throat.”
and with that, he roughly grips the back of your head and pushes you down, shooting white ropes straight down your throat, causing you to choke a little. “fuckfuckfuck i love you.”
you pulled back breathless, “you almost killed me from suffocation.”
he let out a slight grin before lifting you from the floor onto his lap, “yeah? well, we’re not done yet baby. finish what you started.”
Our definition of 'forgiveness' dictates how we heal.
To me, self-forgiveness isn't the absence of the memory of what I did but the absence of self-hostility. I have come to terms with the fact that I shall forever carry the guilt of my biggest mistakes (the guilt, but not the shame). I know that I shall carry the memory of them as a reminder to be kinder, more careful or perhaps more courageous in the future. I’d like to think that by paying the price with my peace of mind, I have gained wisdom. And wisdom never comes for free.
I' d like to think that it's possible to live a beautiful, meaningful life while still acknowledging "I did that, I learned from it, and I am different now."
𝜗𝜚 you thought toji didn’t want you, but the only reason your husband slept on the couch was to stop himself from giving in . . .
( mdni. cw: arranged marriage!au, hurt/comfort, age gap, size kink, praise kink, oral (f. rec), fingering, creampie )
you didn’t choose him.
and truthfully, neither did he.
your families had known each other for decades— tangled up in promises, contracts, and unpaid debts. it was never about love, or even choice. everything had already been decided long before you were old enough to understand what it meant. you weren’t even given time to mourn the death of your autonomy. no arguments, no bargaining. only your father’s voice, stern and tired, eyes dull with the weight of duty, saying, “he’ll protect you. you’ll be taken care of.”
those were the final words that sealed your fate.
and just like that, you became mrs. fushiguro.
the wedding passed in a haze of stiff silk and tense silence. you wore white, he wore black. no one smiled. at least, not in any way that felt genuine. even the photographer didn’t bother faking it. you recited your vows without ever meeting his eyes— the rings felt heavier than they should’ve. there was no kiss. just the sound of distant applause and the quiet, sinking feeling that nothing about this was truly yours.
toji was a quiet man.
stoic, broad, and nearly impossible to read. he didn’t waste time on small talk, rarely showed emotion. it seemed as though your overall presence didn’t faze him in the slightest, as if he’d already adapted to the idea of living with a stranger. he wasn’t the kind to leave messes or linger in shared spaces. everything about him was precise, detached. not out of cruelty, but habit, like he’d spent his whole life perfecting the art of keeping people out.
you’d heard rumors about him growing up. how he used to be the type of man who never stayed in one place for too long, who didn’t give his name to the women he fucked and never spent the night. toji’s never been a one-woman kind of guy. settling down wasn’t in his vocabulary. and definitely not with someone as young and out-of-place as you.
he was older. rougher. the kind of man who’d seen too much and felt too little. you were the opposite— softer around the edges, not naïve, but still idealistic enough to believe marriage might eventually mean something.
but the truth was, you were strangers playing house.
and he made no effort to pretend otherwise.
he never yelled or raised his voice, but he also never smiled. didn’t ask about your day or crack single joke. the most he ever said to you was the occasional, “you eat yet?” or “lock the doors when i’m out.”
he wasn’t cruel. but he wasn’t kind either. he was just… distant.
and every night, without fail, he took a pillow from your bed and laid it on the couch. like it was some unspoken rule neither of you had agreed to, but followed all the same.
you told yourself it didn’t bother you.
it’s better this way, you thought. less awkward. more space. at least he wasn’t forcing anything on you. at least he wasn’t trying to play pretend.
but it still left a strange hollow in your chest, watching him retreat down the hallway like some unwelcome guest, his broad back disappearing into the dark. it was your house, your marriage, but it didn’t feel like either belonged to you.
you could hear him sometimes through the thin walls— the creak of leather, the shift of his weight on the couch, the low sighs he tried to keep quiet. you’d often wonder, did he ever sleep soundly? did he ever think about coming back to bed? or was this just as unbearable for him as it was for you?
you didn’t know what he saw when he looked at you. just a kid, maybe. just another favor he owed. a girl too young for him. a wife he didn’t ask for.
and yet… there were glimpses. brief ones.
he’d linger in the kitchen after grabbing a drink, eyes flicking to you like he wasn’t ready to leave just yet. his gaze would catch on you when you bend over to grab something. there’d be times where his fingers would brush yours when passing a mug across the table, only to quickly pull away and act like the contact burned him.
but none of it meant anything. not really.
he still felt a million miles away, always avoided your eyes, and spent his nights on the couch.
and every time you lay in bed alone, facing the empty space where your husband should have been… you wondered how long it would be before either of you finally broke the silence.
+
months passed.
coexistence— bland, neutral, suffocating— was the best words you could find for it. two strangers living under the same roof. two shadows moving through the same space.
you learned his footsteps before his voice. heavy boots against the tile, always coming home late, reeking of steel and smoke. the scent of blood sometimes lingered longer than it should’ve. cuts along his knuckles, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a cigarette tucked behind his ear he never once lit indoors.
he never offered answers. and you never asked questions.
your conversations always felt transactional— brief and stripped of anything personal. he moved like a man who’d locked his entire life behind closed doors, speaking only when necessary, silence curling in the spaces between
but sometimes, he surprised you.
like when your cough wouldn’t go away, and he left a steaming cup of tea on your nightstand. no note. just honey, lemon, and a quiet gesture you pretended not to notice. or the time your car wouldn’t start, and by morning it was fixed, keys hung on the hook with a single post-it note: ‘battery’s old. don’t leave the lights on.’ or when you dozed off on the couch and woke up in bed, tucked in gently—your socks gone, your blanket neatly arranged over your shoulders, the air warm from the space heater you hadn’t turned on yourself.
little things. fleeting and wordless. barely there, but enough to leave a mark.
enough to make you wonder.
does he care? or is this just guilt? pity? obligation?
you caught him watching you sometimes, too. not lecherous. not overt. just… lingering. like he couldn’t figure you out. like he was trying to memorize you without getting caught. his eyes would trail over your face like he didn’t quite believe you were real.
but he never touched you.
never kissed you.
never allowed himself get too close.
and maybe it was better that way. maybe it hurt less to imagine he didn’t want you than to accept the possibility that he did, and was just too afraid to act on it.
until one night, everything changed.
it was starting to rain. the steady patter against the window, soothing enough to lull you to sleep with a book on your chest and the bedside lamp still glowing, thunder rolled somewhere in the distance. you curled beneath the blankets alone, as always, half-asleep before the storm even settled.
you didn’t hear him come in.
but you felt it— the sudden shift in the air, the creak of the floorboards, the dip of the mattress under his weight. his warm breath near the nape of your neck.
your heart kicked in your chest.
“…toji?” you whispered, uncertain, afraid to turn around.
a pause stretched long.
“…can’t sleep,” he murmured, voice rough, like it scraped against something inside him just to speak.
your pulse quickened. “you… wanna stay here tonight?”
he hesitated. the air thickened, heavy with tension.
when he finally responded, his voice was low. remorseful.
“should’ve been sleepin’ here from the start.”
you didn’t know what to say. but when you shifted, he took it as an invitation— easing into the sheets behind you, his massive arm hesitating before wrapping around your waist.
his touch was delicate. almost reverent.
you held your breath as his fingers brushed your stomach. then your ribs. then lower.
“you sure?” he whispered, lips grazing your ear.
you didn’t need time to think before you breathed out a barely audible, “yes.”
a pause. then a low groan, rumbling in his chest.
“good,” he growled, voice thick with restraint finally snapping. “been holdin’ back for too fuckin’ long.”
and then he finally kissed you.
it was messy. desperate. months of pent-up frustration crashing all at once. his mouth was warm, his lips greedy, tongue sweeping against yours like he needed to taste every piece of you. every part he’d denied himself.
you whimpered, hands fisting in his hair, and he groaned against your mouth— deep and guttural, as if it physically hurt to hold back.
“fuck, baby… taste so sweet,” he murmured, breath warm on your lips. his hands roamed, rough palms caressing your hips, your thighs, your stomach.
he pulled back just long enough to sit up and yank your nightshirt over your head in one swift motion, tossing it to the floor. you lay bare beneath him, chest rising and falling, lips parted in anticipation— the look in his eyes darkened, heat blooming behind his lashes. his gaze dropped to your underwear, and a crooked smirk curved his mouth.
“always sleepin’ in those little fuckin’ panties,” he muttered, laced with amusement and need. “you do it to tease me?”
“n-no, i—” your throat tightened as he hooked his fingers into the waistband, dragging them down your thighs with excruciating slowness, knuckles brushing your skin.
“you do now,” he said, eyes never leaving you. “so pretty… ‘s all mine, yeah?”
you nodded quickly, heart thudding in your chest. “yours.”
he leaned down, kissed your collarbone, your chest, your waist— leaving no place of you untouched. his stubble scraped your skin, rough enough to make your thighs twitch, your breath hitch. you shivered as he moved lower, lips brushing along your inner thighs until he was nestled between them
“spread those legs, sweet girl,” he rasped. “lemme taste what i’ve been missin’.”
you obeyed instantly, trembling.
and then he was on you.
your cry cracked the silence, body jolting as his tongue met your folds— slow, deliberate, filthy. he devoured you like he was starving, tongue flat and thorough, savoring every bit of you with obscene groans vibrating against your pussy.
“fuck… so wet for me already,” he breathed between licks, voice muffled and wrecked. “this pretty lil’ cunt’s been waitin’, huh?”
“t-toji— ah!”
he moaned in response, sucking your clit into his mouth while two fingers pushed inside— curling just right, filling you so perfectly it made your toes curl. you were already so sensitive, so overwhelmed, but he didn’t slow down, didn’t give you a second to catch your breath.
he kept going, relentless, mouth and hands working in tandem until your thighs shook around his head and your fingers tugged his hair, your orgasm ripping through you in thick waves as you cried out his name.
only when you fell back against the pillows, panting and soaked, did he finally stop.
he sat back on his knees, eyes half-lidded, licking his lips like he couldn’t bear to waste a drop of you. he made quick work of his belt, unbuckling it with one hand while the other gently stroked your thigh, soothing you. his cock was thick, flushed, the tip glistening. heavy in his palm as he stroked himself slow, watching the way your chest rose and fell.
“gonna fuck you slow,” he promised, “but i ain’t gonna be gentle.”
you whimpered. “want you… please, toji.”
he leaned in and kissed you again— deep and messy, still tasting like you— before guiding himself to your entrance and pressing in, steady and thick, easing deeper until your walls stretched to take all of him.
“fuck,” he hissed, jaw clenched. “grippin’ me like a fuckin’ vice…”
he stayed still at first, letting you adjust to his size, forehead pressed to yours, his breath fanning across your lips. then he rolled his hips, slow and deep, dragging every ridge of him along your walls. you were already gasping, body arching into his, overwhelmed by how full he made you feel. your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, grounding yourself against the dizzying pleasure.
and then he started to move— faster, deeper, driving into you with smooth, powerful thrusts. the bed creaked beneath you, the headboard thudded against the wall in rhythm.
“yeah, take it, baby,” he grunted. “takin’ it so good for me.”
his mouth found your neck, then your shoulder, then your lips again— hot and open, tongue sliding against yours between moans. you couldn’t think, couldn’t speak— only hold on and feel. your nails raked down his back as he fucked you harder, each thrust making your breath hitch.
“always thought about this,” he confessed between gritted teeth. “every fuckin’ night on that couch. wanted to come in here… split you open.”
his hand came up to wrap around your throat, not choking, just holding. “look at me.”
your eyes fluttered open, and he looked down at you like he was worshipping you. you were already teary, completely undone, and somehow still falling apart beneath him.
his lips were back on yours, languid, teasing, yet driven by something deeper. like he finally understood what it meant to want.
“mine,” he growled, low and steady. “you hear me?”
“yours,” you whispered back, broken and sure.
he groaned as he came, burying himself as deep as he could go, hips grinding into you while he spilled inside— thick and warm, pulse after pulse. you felt it fill you, every drop, your walls fluttering around him as you whimpered through the overstimulation.
you clung to him like a lifeline, barely able to breathe.
and still, he didn’t move.
he stayed there, chest heaving, one hand cupping your cheek, nose brushing your skin like he couldn’t stop touching you. he kissed your temple, your cheek, your jaw. soft and sweet and quiet.
“shouldn’t’ve waited this long,” he murmured against your skin. “you… you make this place feel like home.”
you blinked up at him, bleary-eyed.
“…i thought you didn’t like me,” you hesitantly confessed.
his brows pulled together. “didn’t like you?”
you nodded. “you always slept on the couch. you never talked to me…”
his expression softened, almost ashamed.
he lets out a shaky breath.
“did it ‘cause i didn’t wanna scare you. didn’t think i deserved to sleep next to you yet.”
your heart clenched so tightly you thought it might break.
“…you do,” you whispered, reaching up to touch his face. “you do now.”
he leaned into your palm.
then kissed you— slow, tender, like he meant every breath of it.
that night, for the first time, you fell asleep in your husband’s arms.
and for once… he didn’t leave.
i don’t think i’m very good at writing angst but i tried 🤧 i rlly hope i executed this well enough bc i never wrote arranged marriage trope before but i feel like this wasn’t that bad idkskdksk
੭꣒ ˖ ❛ bf!suguru who loves to babytalk you while sex.
c.ws :: mdni , smut , daddy kink , babytalk , a lot of praise , spooning sex , size kink , overstimulation , creampies , body worship , dacryphilia.
“aww, my little princess… look at you, all needy and squirmy for me, huh?”
suguru’s voice is a warm, teasing murmur right against your ear as he spoons you from behind, his strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. his other hand gropes your soft breast gently at first, then firmer, kneading the flesh like dough while his thumb circles your nipple, making it pebble under his touch. you’re already so sensitive, every little pinch sending jolts straight to your core, where his thick cock is nestled snugly between your thighs, teasing your slick folds.
“s-sugu… please…” you whine, arching back into him, your hips wiggling desperately for more.
“shh, shh, babygirl,” he coos, nuzzling into your neck, planting soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. “daddy’s got you, okay? gonna make my sweet little thing feel so good. you’re so sensitive today, aren’t you? my sweet girl…”
he shifts slightly, guiding the fat head of his cock to your entrance, pushing in slow and steady, inch by inch, until he’s buried deep inside your fluttering walls. you gasp, trembling as he fills you completely, stretching you just right, his girth making your tummy clench with that delicious fullness.
“there we go… oh, look at that, princess. takin’ me so well… feels good, doesn’t it? yeah? tell daddy how good it feels.”
“m-move—! ngh!” your voice came out as a mewl, turning quickly into a content sight as soon as he starts to move, his hips rolling in lazy, deep thrusts that have him grinding against that sweet spot inside you. his hand slides down from your breast to grip your hip, digging his fingers in possessively while he spoons you tighter.
“fuck— you’re all creamy and wet already. listen to that—hear how squishy you are? that’s your pretty cunny talkin’, huh? beggin’ for more.”
he picked up the pace, thrusting harder now, the wet smack of his hips against your ass echoing in the room in an obscene squelch, but his touches remained oh-so-fucking-gentle—his lips brushing your ear, whispering sweet nothings, his free hand roaming to caress your thighs, your belly, anywhere he can spoil you with affection.
your body feels on fire, every drag of his cock making stars burst behind your eyes, your walls clenching around him so hard he almost hisses under his breath. it’s too much, too fucking intense. tears start to prick your lashes as the pleasure builds, your needy cries turning into sobs.
“you’re shakin’, baby… too much? no? want more? okay, okay, daddy’ll give you everything. gonna fuck my sweet princess nice and deep, fill you up with all my love.”
“mmph! suguru—! i’m… i’m so close, please!” your hips meet his in desperate attempts to get more of him, chasing a high that promises to leave you so deliciously fucked out.
“yeah, just like that… let go, angel. cum for daddy… that’s it, let go. cream all over me, show me how much you love it.” his voice is a loving croon, even as he pounds into you relentlessly, kneading your breast again, pinching just enough to push you over.
you shatter with a wail, your pussy creaming around his shaft, milking him as waves of ecstasy crash over you. suguru follows with a low groan, thrusting deep one last time before spilling inside, thick ropes of seed breeding your walls, leaking out around where you’re joined as he holds you still, spoiling you with kisses along your neck.
“there’s my good girl… so perfect, all filled up and happy. i love you so much, baby.” he stays wrapped around you, lazily grinding through the aftershocks, until you’re boneless and giggling in his arms, utterly loved.
his dick is heavy in his hand, flushed and leaking, the head slick as he runs it slowly through the slippery mess between your thighs. your folds are swollen, twitching with every brush of his tip.
his voice is rough when he whispers, “gonna ease it in, baby… s’gonna feel big. you tell me if it’s too much, alright?”
but you’re already nodding, legs spread wide, cunt stretched open and aching for him. the first inch pushes past your entrance and your body clenches around him immediately, sucking him in with a wet, squelching noise that makes his whole body jolt.
“oh—oh, sweetheart…”
his dick is so fat it forces your walls to stretch around him, snug and slippery and tight, and he’s biting his lip hard to keep himself from rutting deeper too fast. the air’s full of heat and moans, your gasps high and breathy while his are low, cracked, almost desperate.
he’s panting into your neck, trembling from restraint as he feeds you more. your pussy gives a sticky noise each time his hips nudge forward, and you can feel the drag of every vein along your inner walls, your muscles fluttering like you’re trying to spit him out but pull him deeper at the same time.
by the time he’s halfway in, your nails are digging into his back and your thighs are starting to shake. there’s a thick pressure deep in your belly, like your body’s being filled too full, and when you glance down, you can see the faint outline of him under your skin, stretching you out from the inside.
“just a lil’ more,” he groans, voice cracked. “you’re taking it—so good, baby, so soft down there, you’re squeezing me real tight…”
you whimper as he finally bottoms out, dick buried to the base, the thick root of it pressed firm against your overstretched entrance. he doesn’t move, breathing hard against your cheek, both of you dizzy from how deep he is.
your cunt pulses around him, dripping mess down onto the hairy base of his cock.
his hand finds your lower belly, palm spreading over that swollen spot where his dick bulges inside you.
“look at that,” he murmurs, in awe. “my sweet girl’s stuffed so full.”
he doesn’t even need to move. just the feeling of being buried inside you for the first time, the sight of your pussy stretched wide around him, your gasping mouth, your fluttering lashes, your slick dripping onto his thighs—it’s all too much.
he grinds in once—just to feel the way you tremble—and you both moan at the same time, breath tangled, filthy and flushed and soaking the bed.
and when he finally pulls back to push in again slow and deep, your whole body arches.
“there you go,” he groans, voice ruined. “that’s it, baby. open up f’me.”
he watches you intently from his spot across from you at the patio table as you bounce one of your friend's babies on your lap. the hand holding his red solo cup squeezes around the plastic in an attempt to lower the urge to snatch you up. you keep giving him that innocent smile in your form fitting dress, looking like the picture of domesticity and a wet dream of his come to life.
he shifts in his chair, cup warping beneath his grip, jaw tight as he drags his gaze slowly down the line of your thighs, then back up to your tits, which keep bouncing just a little with the soft motion of your body while you entertain the child. "you seem to know what you're doing." he grunts.
you have that one look on your face you always get when you're teasing him. you hand off the baby to one of your friends so the poor thing isn't involved in the intense stare-off you and him have going on, and you grin, leaning forward and tipping your head to the side, fluttering your lashes at him. "yeah, it feels natural, hm? bet i'll be real good at it when you put a baby in me."
he shifts in his seat and spreads his knees further like it'll calm the way his cock is hard and pushing against the zipper of his jeans. you haven’t touched him once and his cock is already uncomfortably swollen just from watching you be sweet to everyone else in. "don't talk like that." he says sternly, unable to handle your dirty talk while in public.
"your face is warm, are you alright?" you smile innocently, your big eyes sparkling sweetly. you tug your hair up off your neck with a soft, whining sigh and his breathing picks up sharply. you did that on purpose. it's not far off from the sounds you make when he's balls deep in you, which doesn't help his situation. " 'm fine, baby. 's just hot outside."
he wonders if he made the right choice to come. he was debating dragging you back to bed and away from the car the second you chose that dress, form fitting and showing a questionable amount of cleavage for a barbeque in your backyard where you'd intended for your man to meet some of your friends and their husbands; a group date, if you will. now, you've stood up and started moving around the barbeque, and he feels like he's being tormented on purpose. the way you stretch when you reach for the cooler, arms overhead, back arching, your dress straining against your ass.
he hasn't spoken in a while now, to any of your friends. he just nods or shakes his head or clears his throat any time he's addressed, because he cannot think right now. you keep drifting past him like you're checking on something, brushing your fingers along his shoulder, placing a very calculated kiss right to his sweet spot; the area right under his ear.
you keep pretending not to notice how wrecked he looks as his jaw keeps flexing, throat working every time he swallows, like he's physically trying to restrain himself. he watches your ass bounce and hips sway when you walk. "oh fuck me," he mutters low to no one in particular. he catches your arm the next time you walk past him, dragging you close to him so he can lean forward and whisper in your ear. "you like being a fuckin' menace, huh?"
and you do, that's what makes this so fun for you. you keep doing that little pout, bottom lip soft and pushed out, head tilted like you're confused when you're really not. he grunts, hand coming up to wrap gently but very firmly around the base of your throat, thumb just under your jaw as he tilts your head up, and his voice lowers. "you keep lookin' at me like that. walkin' around like that. can't you sit still?"
you blink up at him with a little grin. "i thought you said it was hot outside, baby. 'm just trying to keep cool." he scowls at your bullshitting and squeezes your neck.
"yeah? y'wanna see how cool i can be when i stretch out your sloppy lil' pussy?" your breath catches in shock at his tone, but your cunt gives a dull throb nevertheless. he continues, clearly fed up with your antics, leaning in so his mouth brushes against your cheek.
instead of backing down, you just reach down and take his hand off your throat, kiss the inside of his wrist before glancing around, voice sweet and breathless. "stop being so needy, babe. i'm sure you can behave yourself for a few more hours." you say, your voice soft and patronizing.
he's furious. his eyes rake over you, slowly, hand moving to the small of your back, holding you closer to him now. "i'm sick of you being such a little brat, y'hear me? do you wanna be punished?"
you scoff, and pull back just enough to give him a smug grin. "mm, you're so dramatic," you murmur like it's cute and he isn't five seconds from fucking you on the grass like a wild animal. "chill out. 'm gonna go get a popsicle. i'll grab one too so your mouth has something to do other than talking."
he stares after you, stunned while you walk away with your hips swaying. his cock is throbbing, nearly painful in his jeans now, the cotton of his boxers chafing into skin in the worst way possible. he would get up after you, but his cock is so fucking swollen that he cannot get up without causing a scene, and you know it.
he watches as you pull open the cooler lid, lean all the way over to dig through it, your dress riding up just enough to send another wave of fury through his bloodstream, before you pull out a popsicle and rip it open with your teeth, lips closing around it. your man exhales through his nose, pushing his hand over his lap in an attempt to hide his problem, watching you lick and suck and slobber onto that popsicle like it's his cock. not helping. "she can't be fuckin' serious..." he mumbles, his pulse spiking. his gaze focuses on you, lashes flickering as he tries to prevent the stupid glassy eyed expression he gets whenever he looks at you.
damn him for having such a big crush on his girlfriend.
you stroll back to him, still licking at your popsicle, and lower yourself onto his lap, right onto his cock. and with how thin your dress is, he can easily feel your plump pussy lips and folds against his jeans. you're... not even wearing panties.
you know there’s nowhere else for you to sit, and he knows you timed it like that on purpose. you wriggle like you're just getting comfortable onto his cock, and the noise he makes in response is feral. his hands fly to your waist on instinct, and his whole body jerks under you, hips twitching up against your bare cunt even though he's doing everything he can to hold still. he squeezes you, hard. "you. you've got five seconds to get off me."
you giggle and roll your hips instead so your pussy grinds down on his bulge, and he groans, squeezing you tighter and putting his face in your neck. he needs you to stay still before he creams himself, but you're a fucking brat with no self restraint. "don't think i will," you hum petulantly, reaching up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. "you're so comfy."
his hand comes under your shirt to squeeze at your flesh, he's so swollen and pent up that he's started leaking steadily now, his body begging for release. you won't sit still either, continuously grinding on him as he moans into you skin, biting into your throat to muffle his noises. "mmngh... 'm gonna fucking ruin you, you goddamn brat," you smile in response, all saccharine and smug. "in front of my friends, baby? don't think so."
he lifts his head slowly. "say one more fuckin' thing. go ahead. see what happens."
"you're hard as a rock, baby." is the last teasing remark you make before he gets up, dead silent, and yanks you up with him, his hand sliding around your waist. you stumble a bit in your sandals, but he catches you with no effort, one strong arm across your back to hold you close enough to him that his soiled pants and erection aren't visible. his free hand squeezes your upper arm firm enough for you to know he's done with your shit.
-
"baby, fuck! slow d-down, mmmh, oh my god,"
he's got you down on a bed in one of the rooms upstairs, the music coming from the speakers down at the barbeque the two of you abandoned now faded and replaced by the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. you're laying down with him plowing into you from behind so roughly your vision is swimming, and one of his huge hands is splayed on the back of your neck to keep you down while the other squeezes your hips. he's grunting and panting harshly behind you, eyes blazing with anger.
"slow down?" he spits, voice rough as he bends down to talk against your ear. his chest is heaving, sweat sticking to his chest as he ruts into you from behind uncoordinatedly, thrusts hard and sloppy and inconsistent like he's lost the ability to pace himself. "you want slow now? after all that bullshit downstairs? after grinding on my fuckin' cock in front of everyone like a needy little slut?"
his hips snap forward hard and you cry out as he starts fucking his cock deep inside you, your walls stretched out around his cock close to unbearably. his hand at your neck doesn't let up either, making it impossible to lift your head and do anything but take his cock in your soaked, puffy little pussy. he keeps you pinned down like you're a wild, untamable animal. "told you not to fuckin' play with me." his voice is low now, rasping through clenched teeth, "i told you to sit your pretty little ass still, but no. and now look where you are, hm? getting fucked like a whore."
he pounds into you, his bulbous head swollen and pressing down heavily at your sweet spot, too much, too long. you're seeing stars each time he bottoms out and kisses the gooey spot in you so rough that you scream, and tighten up so much that it feels like you're milking his cock. you try to squirm and lift yourself up a little to get away from the overwhelming amount of pleasure just for a second, but he slams in harder, shoves you back down, and you whine loudly, legs quivering weakly.
"couldn't help yourself, huh?" he growls, dragging his hand down your spine to slap your ass, hard, making you jolt and clench. "wanted to make me mad. wanted to see what i'd do if you were a little slut in front of everyone." your mouth hangs open as you pant and drool, fingers clawing at the sheets for something to hold. "baby fuuuuuck, please! i didn't-"
"don't fucking lie to me." he says quietly, his thrusts now quicker and rougher, his heavily balls slapping against your ass while he grinds deep inside you. you sob, twisting under him. "yes, yes, baby, i swear fuck, i'm mngh, sorry, 'm sorry,"
his cock twitches and throbs inside you with enjoyment at your pitiful sounds, and he thrusts into you from behind hard enough to watch your ass bounce and jiggle. you try to fuck yourself back on his cock to try and guide the pace or maybe encourage him to let you do the work but he squeezes the back of your neck in warning and pushes down on your back so you can't move anymore. you mewl pitifully, unable to gain any control. his length, thick and veined with a curve that hooks inside you at the perfect angle to kiss your cervix and your g-spot in every thrust, scrapes at your walls mercilessly. he's pounding you as a punishment.
"sh-shit... yeah?" he breathes, voice shaking slightly. "you're sorry now? while you're soaking my cock like this? fuckin' pathetic, baby, you're not sorry at all." he slams forward again, hard enough to make your whole body jolt, and you fist at the blankets for dear life, getting fucked into oblivion while your pussy clenches around him weakly. he hisses through his teeth, cock grinding down into the slick mess between your thighs deeply.
his hips buck sharply, cutting himself off with a guttural moan as he fucks into you so rough and uncoordinated that you feel like he wants his cock molded into the shape of your cunt. "bet you were wet the second we got here," he growls, leaning down to lick at your shoulders and bite your throat, laying on you from behind so you're now in prone bone, the new position making you both moan loud as his cock shoves into you impossibly deeper. one hand is sliding fingers into your mouth so you slobber around his fingers, while the other holds your wrist down. "oh fuck, baby... this pussy's so fuckin' good... fuck..."
you're sobbing now, the overwhelming fullness, the tight stretch, the pounding driving your brain to mush. "please," you whimper, barely able to speak around your cries. "i-i can't... too much, it's too..."
"shhh" he snarls, tugging your hair back a little so you're forced to arch for him, your hole spread for him. his cock shoves so deep inside you, and your walls pulse and flutter around him as the buildup of your orgasm coils up in your tummy. "you wanted this," he murmurs. "y' fuckin' asked for it. grinding on me, teasing me, sittin' on my lap with that messy little cunt, this is what you get."
he rams into you harder, strokes mean, and your slick makes filthy squelching noises with each sloppy, animalistic thrust. his cock drags against every soft, sensitive spot inside you like his cock knows instinctively exactly where to hit to make your toes curl. he pushes into you harder, putting just enough of his weight on you to be shy of smothering. "baby, i c-can't, 'm gonna cum," you sob, your voice wrecked and desperate, your voice is slurred and muffled around his fingers pressing down onto your toungue.
"yeah?" he pants into your skin, slotting hot, open mouthed kisses to your shoulders and throat. "you gonna cream on my cock like a good little girl? gonna soak me while everyone outside's thinkin' you're sweet and innocent? fine, nasty lil' thing. cum on my cock." he then turns your head, taking his fingers out of your mouth so he can kiss you deeply, his tongue immediately connecting with yours to kiss you filthily and messily, capturing your moans with his mouth.
you come apart by screaming into his mouth, your body clenching and trembling as the orgasm rips through you, your cunt squeezing him in pulses so tight he chokes on a loud groan. his hips jerk up ino you as he fucks you through your orgasm, thrusts sloppy and urgent. he pulls back from your mouth a little, licking your swollen lips and tugging your hair to make eye contact. "look at me. 'm gonna fuckin' breed you, baby. gonna stuff this messy lil' pussy full and make it mine."
you're still cumming, overstimulated and sobbing into the sheets when he slams in one last time with a ragged growl and spills inside you, his cream hot and coming out in languid, thick splurts. you feel every twitch and pulse of his cock as he empties himself into you, his whole body shuddering above you while he groans loud and unashamed.
he doesn't pull out right away, just stays buried deep, breathing ragged against your skin with his hands coming around to squeeze your breasts under you to ground himself. he exhales shakily and presses chaste little kisses to your shoulder, cock still rock hard inside you. he absently ruts into you, laving his tongue over your sweat slicked skin while you twitch under him weakly. some of his cum leaks out of you, but his fat cock keeps most of it stuffed inside. he pinches your swollen nipples and moans against your neck. "fuck, this perfect fuckin' pussy, baby. wanna go for one more?"
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when he doesn't let you have any control during sex. (18+)
but isn't there a sort of thrill in not having ANY control when it comes to sex with him? sure, he's held you down before, put you in a prone position on your tummy to cover your eyes with his hand and keep you locked in place, cuffed you... but what about all of it together?
you're underneath him with your own panties shoved into your mouth, covered in drool. he'd warned that if you spit them out or got too loud, you'd be strapped to a vibe all day tomorrow while he's out at work. your eyes have a sleek black blindfold over them, and your hands are tied together expertly behind your back. you have zero control over your senses; no vision, no hands, no talking. he's doing everything, having you face down ass up in the bed with his face buried between your cheeks to eat your pussy.
his breath is hot and ragged against your skin as he presses his face between your soft, trembling cheeks, burying his nose deep where your juices seep out invitingly. every flick of his tongue sends shivers darting through your spine, coaxing out every hidden moan your gag muffles.
his hands cup your ass firmly, spreading you wider to offer you fully to his mouth. you can feel his lips suckle and his tongue lap and coat your sensitive folds. heat coils in your belly, tightening with every teasing flick of his big tongue.
the contrast of the rough, demanding feel of his tongue with the soft, needy sounds you're forced to stifle inside your gag makes the whole experience dizzying. when he sucks too hard or licks with enough pressure, you jolt in your restraints and ache to plead with him to slow down, but you physically can't. and even if you could, you'd be met with punishment.
when he hears faint moans and pleads despite the gag in your mouth, he bites down on your ass cheek, mumbling "shut up, brat. lemme focus, fuck's sake," then dives back in your pussy with a groan, sending pleasant vibrations to your core. his nose buries in the soft space between your asshole and cunt, tongue flicking up sharply against your walls. then he plunges his tongue deep inside your hole to taste you fully.
his lower face is coated in slick, his tongue is thick and greedy as it drives into your dripping hole repeatedly. he pulls back just enough to spit on your pussy to get it even wetter and sloppier, one hand sliding down between your legs to press two thick fingers into your hole. the intrusion makes you jolt and squeal around the gag. "listen to you," he mutters, sounding a bit out of breath from nearly suffocating himself in your pussy a second ago. "y'pussy's swallowing my fingers. pathetic."
his fingers curl deep, nudging that sweet spot inside you repeatedly with his fingertips, then burying the digits in you knuckle deep. he fucks them into you so deep it makes your cunt pulse around him.
and then he pulls them out.
you sob, the sound muffled by lace. but you don't have to wait long before his hands grip your ass, spread you again, and then his mouth is back on you, pushing his tongue into your pussy with no warning. he begins licking up into you like he's trying to coax your orgasm straight from the source.
"yeah," he groans, voice muffled against your cunt. "give it t'me, baby. c'mon. fuckin' soak me."
you let out a scream and then your whole body locks up. warmth in the pit of your tummy; your legs tremble, and your pussy gushes with a sudden, helpless rush right into his face. he doesn't flinch or pull away. he tongue fucks you through your orgasm, lapping it all up like he's starving. his hands don't stop gripping your ass, spreading you wider as your cum drips down his face.
"atta girl, there we go." he pants, breaking just long enough to speak before he dives back in sloppy and wet, licking up every drop you've spilled.
though you're spent and sensitive from cumming, he doesn't let you see, touch, or speak. you're not going anywhere.
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your palms are flat on the fogged-up glass. chest pressed forward, tits soft and slick where they meet the cold. water crashes against your back and shoulders, steam curling in your lungs - but you barely feel any of it.
because all you can feel is him.
toji’s behind you, drenched and burning. he’s got one hand braced on your hip, the other between your thighs - thumb drawing messy, wet circles over your clit, unrelenting, fast and a little mean.
“don’t stop,” you gasp, breath fogging up the glass. “please, don’t-”
“who’s stoppin’?” he murmurs, teeth at your shoulder. “not me, baby.”
he thrusts into you again - thick, deep, brutal. it knocks the breath from your chest, your hips from the wall, your brain right out of your head. you squeak. falter. slip a little.
he laughs.
“careful now,” he rasps, dragging you back up by the waist. “don’t go breakin’ your neck while daddy’s fuckin’ you.”
you shudder. moan. rut your hips back against him - needy and reckless and soaked to the bone. he groans at the feeling of it, at the slap of your ass against his thighs, and fucks into you harder just to watch the ripple.
his cock hits that spot that makes you cry out - makes your hands scramble uselessly against the glass, like you’re trying to hold yourself steady when you’re already a goddamn mess.
“look at you,” he mutters, low and smug, water dripping down his neck, dark hair plastered to his forehead. “barely standin’. this little pussy that desperate for me, huh?”
you nod. or try to. your whole body’s shaking.
his fingers don’t stop moving - soaking, teasing, spreading you open while he fucks you full. there’s water everywhere. on your lips, in your eyes, streaming down your spine. the tile’s slippery. your legs are trembling. the only thing keeping you up is him.
and he loves it.
“yeah, fuckin’ knew it,” he growls, pressing in deeper, making sure you feel it. “you like this, huh? hands on the wall, tits on the glass, me stuffin’ you full while you drip all over my fuckin’ floor.”
your whine is pathetic. your thighs are shaking. your knees buckle-
but he catches you before you fall, groaning something half-wicked and half-worried against the back of your neck.
“told you not to slip, dumb girl,” he mutters. “you okay?”
you nod into the glass. “yeah. yeah, just-fuck, toji, please-”
“yeah, baby,” he pants. “i got you. daddy’s got you. g’nna fill this pussy up, just hold on.”
you come first. full-body, leg-trembling, moan-strangled-against-the-glass type of orgasm. and he follows not long after - shoving in deep, thick and twitching and breathless, filling you with every drop of his thick seed.
and for a long moment, all you can hear is water. and breathing. and his big, strong arms, still wrapped around your waist like he doesn’t wanna let go.
ten minutes later, you’re in his towel, pressed to his chest on the couch while megumi eats cereal and very much pretends he didn’t hear anything.
toji just grins, sips his coffee, and slaps your thigh under the blanket.
“babe..” you whined, reaching to tug your boyfriends sweater from behind. he’s been on that game since you came over for what you thought would be a nice make out session with a netflix movie playing in the back that the two of you were totally paying attention to.
“just wait pretty. i’m almost done.” gojo mumbled, clearly busy. you groaned, placing your head on the pillow once again frustrated. “you’ve said that over five times already!”
“okay damn, let me finish!” he snapped.
he’s never snapped. not towards you anyways. you could feel your heart sink to your stomach. he took notice of your silence once he could feel the atmosphere thicken enough to be cut with a knife.
“baby..” his voice has now softened, heavy hand landing on your thigh, rubbing it in comfort. “baby im sorry. didn’t mean to snap. look,” he quickly shut his tv, throwing the controller somewhere else on the bed. his arms wrapped around your body. “you’ve got all my attention now sweetheart.”
“don’t want it.”
a frown tugged on his face, hand traveling in between your thighs right where you needed him in the first place. “are you sure?” his thumb rubbed your folds over your soaked panties.
your hips jerked, legs closing automatically. “nuh uh.” gojo grabbed your waist, repositioning you so that you were hovering over his face.
“satoru!” you gasped, holding the headboard so you wouldn’t suffocate your boyfriend to death. “cmon let’s get these off you..” he coo’ed, ripping your underwear right in the middle.
“and there we go!”
you moaned loudly after he practically forced you down, tongue already working on you, drawing out even louder moans.
his hands encouraged you to grind on him. “satoru.. satoru..” his name fell from your lips like a prayer.
he groaned, letting go from your waist now that you were moving on your own. his hands made their way down to palm himself, moans sending vibrations throughout you.
you could faintly hear the sound of his zipper getting pulled down. his hand wrapped itself around his cock, pumping it at a fast pace. you will never get over the fact that his cock was over 9 inches. ever. even in his large hand, it was still huge.
you looked over your shoulder or look at the super sexy sight.
“m’sorry baby.. so so sorry..” he groaned, thrusting into his hand. “won’t speak like that again.. or ignore you for a game. fuck. could never ignore my girl and her delicious cunt.”
that was enough to make your orgasm hit you like a truck. your eyes fluttered shut, whimpering quietly all while he swallowed every last drop. he followed soon after with his load shooting out.
“now, let’s try another position?” he grinned, lifting you from his cum stained face.
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